


Watch Over

by BinJLG



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Concussions, Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Drunk Castiel, Drunk Dean Winchester, Emotional Intimacy, M/M, Moonshine, Profanity, Swearing, descriptions of injuries, ghouls (mentioned), tiny motel rooms, wendigo (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinJLG/pseuds/BinJLG
Summary: Sam's sleeping off a concussion after a case, so Dean and Castiel decide to drink off a job well done.





	Watch Over

Dean had a broken hand, a sprained ankle, and he was gushing blood from his nose. Sam had a nasty concussion, so Dean had no choice but to let Cas drive them back to the motel. Normally he’d just ask Cas to heal him and then drive himself, but with the sound of sirens rapidly approaching, that wasn’t an option.

“So glad I taught you how to drive,” Dean hissed as Cas hair-pinned a turn onto a bumpy back road that sent Dean tumbling across the back seat. He felt around with his good hand for the seatbelt in the fold of the back seat, for once wishing Baby had the new ones that were more harness than belt.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” Cas grumbled through gritted teeth, bumping up and down as the car jostled on the uneven terrain. If Dean wasn’t in so much pain and he wasn’t so worried about the cops finding them, he would have made fun of the way Cas’s voice bobbed with the car.

The hunt was supposed to be an easy one. Grave robbing with chewed up corpses. Open and shut ghoul case. But, of course, things were never that simple. Not for the Winchesters. It was ghouls, but it turned out there was an entire damn nest of the bastards instead of the more common solitary scavengers. Dean knew he was going to need back up the second he and Sam found the nest on accident while questioning locals, so he called in Cas. What they didn’t know until they were taking out the stragglers was that the sheriff was on the payroll and the dick heads had called the cops while hiding from the hunters.

“Are they still following us?” Sam slurred from the passenger seat. Dean was pretty sure his brother just stumbled there while they were leaving out of habit, but with a concussion like that he wouldn’t want to give Sam even a tiny bit of room to lie down at the moment. He looked out the back windshield for a good long moment. He strained his eyes against the tail lights to see if he could spot a flash of blue and tried to listen for a distant siren over the constant breaking of underbrush and Baby’s suspension.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Good, cause we really need to slow down.”

A feeling of horror rushed through Dean as he realized what his brother was implying. “Sammy, don’t you fucking dare!”

The next thing he heard was a heavy, wet splashing noise mixed with Sam’s coughing and retching.

“God dammit Sam,” Dean murmured, leaning back in his seat and running his good hand over his face. He couldn’t bear to look and see where it all landed. He just hoped it all ended up in the floor and not on the dash. He really didn’t want to smell Sam’s upchuck every time he turned on the A/C for the next week or so. Part of him felt overwhelmingly guilty for being more worried about his car than his brother, but his rational side of him kept telling him it was fine. Sam would be fine. He’s had plenty of bumps on the head before and he was always fine. Besides, Cas was up there next to him and he knew that if things got really bad for any reason, he would pull over and patch Sam up as best as he could. Even knowing that, he reached forward and patted his brother on the back, making sure to pick his feet up off the floor just in case.

“You’re fine. Just, could you open a window next time or something?”

“Didn’t exactly have the time to,” Sam shrugged Dean off and sat back, letting his head hang over the back of the seat.

Cas decelerated the car and drove more carefully, casting nervous glances at Sam every time they hit a big enough bump. All three of them relaxed more when they hit pavement again 10 minutes later. And then Sam threw up again.

The motel Dean and Sam were holed up was a cheap place a few miles outside of town. Dean didn’t like booking motels too close to town with ghouls. Not after the whole thing with Adam. It was obvious that the building had been turned into a motel, but from what, Dean couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the building was long and squat, and the rooms were made as small as possible to fit as many guests in as possible. Each room had a single twin bed, a tv, and a bathroom with the world’s most cramped showers _ever_. Which meant for the first time in what felt like forever, he and Sam weren’t sharing a motel room.

“Home sweet home,” Dean grumbled as Cas pulled into a spot between his room and Sam’s. Mercifully his nose stopped bleeding once he was able to push his sleeve against it without hitting himself in the face. His ankle hurt, but he should be okay to gimp as long as he had something to lean against. But his hand was _killing_ him. He got a proper look at it in the dim outdoor light of the motel and frowned down at it. It wasn’t a hand, but a deep reddish-purple balloon with sausages curled in on themselves at the end. He tried to move them and ended up gritting his teeth to hold back a cry of pain. He saw something move beneath the surface and could only assume those were lose bones. God, he was so glad he called Cas in.

“Why are we back at the motel?” Sam asked from the front seat. “Did we forget something? And why are my shoes covered in vomit?”

“We eliminated the ghoul nest roughly 40 minutes ago,” Cas responded calmly, cutting the engine and turning towards Sam. “You’ve suffered a moderate concussion. It’s why you don’t remember taking the nest out or getting sick. Twice. Hold still. I need to have a clear look at you.”

Dean watched Cas frame Sam’s face with his hands and felt… something. It wasn’t his inner panicky self sighing with relief that Sam was actually going to be okay. It wasn’t the swelling pride he felt over Cas handling Baby so well, given the circumstances. It wasn’t the vague paranoia that the sheriff had somehow followed them without any of them noticing. It was something like… annoyance, maybe? Annoyance at Cas. Annoyance at the angel for not immediately turning to him. For not looking at him and healing him first.

‘God, how self-absorbed can I get?’ Dean chided himself. He was being selfish. Of course Cas would look at Sam first. He was the one with the worse injury. And he was right there next to him in the passenger seat. He was closer. It made sense that the angel would treat Sam first. But that didn’t stop the feeling from growing or from Dean’s throat from tightening when Cas leaned in, his face inches away from Sam’s. Dean knew the squinty-eyed look Cas was giving his brother. He’d seen it before, usually when Cas was buried in a text or was trying to figure out some joke Dean had made. He was studying Sam, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Sam asked, shifting, clearly uncomfortable.

Castiel remained where he was for a few more brief moments before leaning back and taking his hands off of Sam’s face. Dean felt the vice on his throat loosen.

“Your concussion is worse than I thought. Healing one this bad should, ideally, be done slowly over time.” Castiel glanced nervously at Dean and the hunter knew immediately what was going through his mind: he was worried about the sheriff too.

“So just do that,” Sam said simply.

“I don’t think we have that luxury.”

“Why not?”

“Remember the sheriff?” Dean asked, hoping that might jog Sam’s memory, even though he knew it wouldn’t.

Sam thought for a moment and then looked around, confusion growing on his face. “Why are we at the motel?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. On top of everything, he was getting a headache. “We cleared the nest. You’ve got a concussion. The sheriff might be on our ass, but we don’t know.”

“I could heal you now, but doing so much so suddenly will cause you to sleep. Most likely for up to 12 hours, maybe longer,” Cas said, eyebrow raised in impatience. “And, as Dean implied, we don’t know if we have that kind of time.”

“Wait, why would he sleep like that?” Dean asked. “You heal broken bones and shit and they’re instantly back to normal. What’s the deal with this?”

Castiel turned with an expression someone wears when attempting to explain something to a child. Dean wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that. “Bones and muscle are simple. They’re easy to repair. Your bodies do it naturally all the time, albeit more slowly than when I do it. But this is the human brain we’re talking about. Healing it is vastly more complex than fusing two disjointed pieces of bone together. It is the central point of Sam’s nervous system, the entirety of what makes his body function. Even your best scientists still don’t understand all the nuances o-”

“Alright, I get it! It’s complicated! Sorry I asked.”

“Are you alright to walk?” Castiel asked, turning back to Sam. “I’d prefer to do this inside as you’re likely to fall asleep immediately.”

Sam nodded and opened the car door, clambering out. Cas gave Dean a worried look, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was about Sam or if it was a way to say the angel hadn’t forgotten about him and his well-being. It was probably about Sam.

Dean hadn’t realized how stiff his joints were from sitting in the car until he tried to get out, swearing quietly as he put weight on his sprained ankle and almost toppling over. Immediately there was a steadying hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Cas giving him the same worried expression. His heart stopped at the proximity and ached at the angel’s worried features.

“I’m fine,” Dean said as he tried to give Cas a reassuring smile. It felt more like a grimace, but that made sense. He was in pain. “Go take care of Sam.”

“Can you even walk?” Cas asked. The grimace obviously didn’t do anything to reassure him.

“Enough to get me the 10 feet to my room.”

“I would be more than happy t-”

“Seriously, I’m fine. I can wait. Go take care of Sam.”

Castiel gave Dean a wary look tinged with disappointment as he nodded and pulled away. Dean leaned heavily against Baby’s side and took a few deep breaths, prepping himself for the hobble over. It really wouldn’t be that bad. Getting out of the car only hurt because he hadn’t expected to put that much weight on his ankle. He’d be fine.

“Hey guys?”

Dean looked up at his brother, who was standing in front of the open door to his motel room, looking at the key like it had just started singing.

“Why are we at the motel?”

Dean couldn’t help but smirk as Cas rolled his eyes and shepherded Sam into his room, giving him one last glance before shutting the door. If he wasn’t in so much pain he was sure he would have laughed. That feeling he had in the Impala when Cas touched Sam’s face was back, simmering at the back of his throat. Dean stood there in the light of the motel for a few moments, trying to focus on getting to the door to his room and push back the burning frustration. He took a tentative hobble forward. Pain shot up his leg, but he’d done more on a lot worse. He was okay. He could make this. Another limp and a few more shambles forward and he suddenly found himself at the lip of the sidewalk with no car to help take the weight off of his busted ankle. The height between the pavement and the cement wasn’t far at all, but it was still going to suck getting up with a bum ankle. After taking a few steadying breaths he went for it. The tip of his boot caught on the lip and hurtled him forward. He put out his hands on instinct only to remember the broken one milliseconds before it collided with the ground with all his weight behind it.

“Motherfucker! Sonofabitch!!”

He couldn’t see for his vision whiting out from pain, but he could definitely hear the sickening crunching sounds and feel the fragments of his hand shift nightmarishly beneath the swollen surface of his skin. What’s more he could taste blood again and it took him a moment to figure out that he had faceplanted and his nose had resumed bleeding. Dean groaned in pain and rolled over onto his back, leaving his head lulled slightly to the side so the blood in his nose didn’t run down the back of his throat. He felt pathetic and useless.

“Fuck me, this sucks.”

He laid there and looked up at the sky, trying to see the stars through the spots of light that kept popping in and out of his vision. The feeling was still there, but he couldn’t think about it. He had to push through whatever small time pain he was feeling, pull himself up, and get to his room. He could do this. He’d been through so much worse. Dean groaned again and let out a heavy sigh before lurching forward into a sitting position on the edge of the sidewalk. He glanced at his hand and grimaced. Falling like that hadn’t done it any favors. It was somehow even more swollen and the color of grape juice. He reached up with his other arm and buried his nose in the crux of his elbow. He wasn’t sure how his nose wasn’t as broken as his hand, but he was grateful it wasn’t.

It wasn’t long before he heard Sam’s door open and shut. He took his sleeve away from his nose and gave Cas a weak grin, using his good hand to give him a little wave.

“Yo. Sammy doing okay?”

Cas gave Dean a look of worried exasperation and crossed to his side in just a few broad steps.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Cas asked as he knelt next to Dean. Dean watched the angel eye his injuries and felt his heart tug again at the look of pain on his face.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse. Sam?”

Castiel eyed Dean warily before sitting next to him on the cement. He looked at Dean sadly, almost guiltily, Dean thought, before reaching forward and touching his forehead. The hunter immediately felt his bones realign and piece themselves together. The massive pressure in his hand and ankle from the swelling dissipated and he felt his nose dry up like a river flowing in reverse.

“He’ll be fine. I don’t think we need to worry about the sheriff either. I took a brief listen to the police scanner Sam keeps in his bag. They don’t know where we are.”

Dean blinked for a moment, trying to process the words and everything that just happened to him. He lifted his hand and flexed it in front of him, testing it out to make sure that it really worked.

“God damn, I am never gonna get used to that,” Dean remarked in amazement. He really should be used to it by now considering how many times Cas has patched him up and cleaned up his messes. But even after all this time, the gentle power still amazed him and left him stumbling for words. “Thanks Cas.”

“I hope you never have to,” Cas said, looking at Dean with a warm, sincere earnestness that made Dean shift and his ears prickle. He licked his lips out of nervous habit as his eyes flitted down to Cas’s before drifting back up to his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if it was actually Cas’s power that left him speechless or if it was just, well, _Cas_. Dean shook his head and looked forward, trying to push whatever he just felt to the back of his mind.

“Thanks, but I’m probably gonna have to,” he said, standing and stretching. He would not think about how he felt about Cas with Cas right there. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t let himself do it.

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a drink,” Dean commented as he took a step forward to the trunk. Booze would help him take his mind off of things. It usually did. He felt his pockets for his keys before turning to Cas and frowning, holding his hand out.

Castiel rolled his eyes and lifted himself off the sidewalk. He fished around in the deep pocket of his coat for a brief moment before handing the keys to Dean.

“Are we just going to drink out here on the curb or would you like to move inside?”

Dean turned and gave Cas a stunned look. “You’re gonna drink with me?”

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged, his trench coat lifting and falling with the movement of his shoulders. “We just took out 20 ghouls with relatively minor injuries. As you so often say, I think we’ve earned it.”

“Y’know, I think I might be a bad influence on you,” Dean teased, grinning as he locked the trunk. He motioned for Cas to follow him, a growler of moonshine tucked under his arm.

“Yes, I believe you are,” He heard Cas say behind him as he opened the door to his room. He didn’t need to look at him to know there was a smile on the angel’s lips.

20 minutes later and Dean was drunker than he’d ever been. The two of them had finished off half the growler already and Dean knew he couldn’t drink anymore without risking getting sick. He was definitely going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning, but Cas was right: they’d earned it.

“Remind me again where you got this,” Castiel asked from the foot of the bed, his face scrunching as he lowered the jug from his lips again. “Surely they don’t sell something like this in any liquor store.”

“Why you say that?” Dean slurred, half chuckling at the way Cas’s nose crinkled.

“This is practically rubbing alcohol. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”

Dean waved his hand and sent his world spinning. He thought he was going to fall for a moment and then remembered he was slouched against the headboard.

“’m fine Cas. Been way more fucked up than this and been okay.”

“If you insist,” Castiel rolled his eyes, bringing the jug back up to his lips. Dean watched him drink for a good long moment. He watched the way Cas’s Adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed, how his lip pouted out under the bottom of the neck, how his seemingly delicate hands firmly held the ceramic in place. Dean noticed how long his eyelashes were, how the corners of his eyes crinkled, and how his hair always looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Dean usually noticed these things every time he was near the angel. He’d catch himself staring at the worst times and force himself to tear his eyes away or sometimes even remove himself from the room completely. He’d distract himself with work or booze. Sometimes if it was really bad enough he’d go out and try to pick up a woman, just to remind himself that he did still in fact like women. But now… now he was too drunk to go anywhere. They had just finished a job. And he was plenty boozed up. So Dean let himself stare and enjoy the view.

He watched as Cas drank and drank for the longest time. He watched the angel gradually tip the jug and his head back further and further, leaning his head from side to side a few times just to make sure he hadn’t crooked his neck like Cas does when he doesn’t understand a joke. Dean started to wonder if the shine was messing with his vision more than usual when he saw Cas’s cheeks start to turn red. The next moment a large drop of liquid escaped through an opening at the corner of the angel’s mouth and Dean felt his jaw go slack. God _damn_ that looked good. If he wasn’t so wasted it might have actually done something for him.

Dean felt his tongue dart out between his lips and heard his throat make a clicking noise when he swallowed, but he never took his eyes off of Cas. He wanted to lean forward and brush the drop away from the angel’s chin with his thumb. He wanted to know what it would be like to cup Cas’s face in his hands when one of them wasn’t beat to hell or in the thick of battle. He wanted to know what that permanent stubble felt like against the palm of his hand, or against his own 5 o’clock shadow, or how it would feel against the soft of his lips. He wondered if Cas would need some coaxing or if he’d just go for it. Was Cas a shy and tender kisser or would he pounce like Dean was his last meal? Dean felt his hand rise and his body start to lean forward…

And then Cas brought the jug away from his lips with a soft pop, wiping his permanently chapped lips on the sleeve of his coat. Dean went to slump back against the headboard again only to find that he hadn’t even moved in the first place. He blinked and started laughing.

Cas looked over at him and gave a tentative smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” Dean chuckled, his brain scrambling for an out. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink so much.”

“And that’s, funny?”

“Drunk me thinks it’s funny,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I gotta tell you how we got this shit.

“So Sammy and I were working a case in the middle of bum fuck nowhere in the mountains of West Virginia. Few guys went missing up in the mountains and they were all from the same extended family. I swear to god some of them had six fingers. Anyway, it was a pretty open and shut wendigo case and we got two of the vics out alive. Turned out these fuckers were bootleggers or moonshiners or whatever you wanna call em and the head of the family – super ancient dude with like 5 teeth and a glass eye – insisted he pay us for doing our job.”

“That must have been strange for you. Usually the people you help are too traumatized to do anything besides thank you,” Castiel said simply before taking another long swig.

“Yeah, it really was,” Dean admitted, licking his lips as he watched Cas’s. “Old timer wouldn’t take no for an answer and we didn’t wanna take his money or nothin so he gave us three growlers of that moonshine.”

“Good, because this one is empty,” Cas slurred as he pulled the jug away from his lips, squinting into the container as if to confirm what he just said.

“Seriously?? Are you gonna be okay?”

Castiel turned his head and gave Dean a flat look, swaying a little. “I won’t be wondering why we’re at the motel instead of out hunting monsters if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dean blinked at Cas with incredulity for a moment before laughing so hard he ended up leaning forward. This of course sent his world whirling and the next thing he knew he was doubled over face down on the mattress. He looked up when he heard the other man laughing, not trusting his ears. Cas barely even smiled, and that’s why it took Dean a moment to realize that Cas wasn’t laughing, but _giggling_. He was giggling so hard that his upper lip curled up to show his gumline, his nose scrunched up, and his eyes crinkled at their corners. He was adorable and Dean could feel his heart leap back up into his throat. The feeling made him laugh harder and he just had to say something about the angel.

“Dude, you are so wasted! Look at your face!”

“As though you’re one to talk,” Cas giggled back. An expression passed over his features that Dean had seen before but had never been able to place. The next moment Castiel was standing and swaying, jug in hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dean chortled.

“To the car. We need more alcohol,” Cas snickered. He took a step and wound up sitting on the bed again, making him burst out into more giggles. Dean heard the growler land on the floor with a soft thunk.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean teased. A truly awful idea came through his head, but instead of his normal filter catching it and keeping him from acting on it, he just let himself go with his impulses. He reached forward and grabbed at the back of Cas’s collar, trying to pull him up further on the bed. “Lay down before you fall down ya boozer.”

Cas giggled more and complied, scooching up until he was level with Dean, their knees knocking against each other’s and their arms pressed together.

“We can’t lay on our backs like this,” Cas grumbled, one of his legs dangling off the side of the bed. “There isn’t enough room. We’ll have to move to our sides.”

Dean’s heart leapt. The thought of having Cas’s hair in his face or the angel’s arm slung around his waist was a long-time day dream that he’d deny having to anyone, including himself sometimes. But now he had the safety net of alcohol. If Cas shoved him away or didn’t like it, he could just say he didn’t remember tonight. No harm, no foul.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Cas’s hand on his shoulder and suddenly found himself facing the angel. He swallowed and pursed his tongue between his lips, his eyes trailing down to Cas’s perpetually chapped ones before wandering back up to his eyes. The look Cas was giving him before he stood up was back and Dean averted his eyes, choosing to settle on Cas’s eyebrows.

“You’re flushed.”

Dean shifted. “So are you. ‘S cause we’re drunk dude.”

“I’ve seen you drink enough to know that you don’t flush when you’re drunk Dean,” Cas stated simply, gently calling the hunter out on his bluff.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat and his brain scrambled to come up with a response.

“Really? Cause I always feel hot or whatever when I drink. Maybe you just didn’t notice til now.”

“I notice everything about you.”

Dean dared to lock eyes with his friend again and was struck by just how open Cas looked. How content and vulnerable he was. Dean’s first instinct was, as it had always been, to pull away from that emotional vulnerability. From the chance of making himself vulnerable to another person only to have them ripped away from him either through death or them walking out on him. But he didn’t do that this time. He held Cas’s gaze. He tried to return the nameless look Cas gave him all those times, tried to match the warmth behind those shimmering, unspeakably blue eyes. But he felt so warm and comfortable and his eyelids felt so heavy that he wasn’t sure if he could.

The hand on Dean’s shoulder pulled him forward and Dean just let go. He reached out and gripped the lapels of a trench coat that by all means should have been rags by now. He pushed a knee between Cas’s and hooked his ankle over his, tangling their legs together. He nudged Cas’s jaw with his forehead and pushed his nose into the crook of the angel’s neck, his nostrils filling with a mixture of petrichor, sun-dried linens, and strong alcohol. He felt the hand on his shoulder leave only to be replaced with an arm draping across his waist. Castiel’s other hand cupped around the back of Dean’s head, nimble but powerful fingers carding through his hair. The angel’s nose nuzzled into his hair and Dean could feel his lips curve into a smile. Dean felt himself suddenly become boneless, not having realized how tense he had been. He felt Cas’s muscles relax and they melted into one another.

For the first time in the longest time, Dean felt safe. Sam was okay, no one was coming after them, and Cas wasn’t going anywhere. He nuzzled into Cas’s chest and let his brain turn off for once, just enjoying the feeling of someone he cared about holding him. Gradually he felt himself start to drift off, but he fought to stay awake. He never knew what his dreams were going to do to him and he wanted this feeling of security and unbridled affection to last as long as possible.

“You can sleep. It’s okay,” he felt Cas’s voice quietly rumble through him like thunder on the horizon. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“You’ll watch over me?” Dean smiled sleepily, half teasing his bed partner and half asking in earnest sincerity. He’d always thought waking up to Cas watching him was one of the creepiest things ever, but now, clinging to him with his face pressed against his chest and breathing in his scent, Cas watching him while he slept sounded nice.

“Yes, of course,” Castiel chuckled, the prod not lost on him.

“Thanks. For everything,” was all Dean managed to get out before exhaustion and liquor took over and he slipped into sleep.

When Dean woke up, he was sprawled out on the bed and alone. No trench coat to cling to. No arms holding him. No smell of rain or sounds of small thunder rolling through him. There was just his pounding head, his dry mouth and throat, and the horrible feeling of nausea that always comes with a bad hangover. He reluctantly sat up and looked around, hoping to see Cas on the floor or standing somewhere in the room, but no. Dean was completely and utterly alone. Again.

A pain tore through him that had nothing to do with his hangover, making him crumple back into the bed and curl up on his side. Part of him wondered if he had dreamed the entire thing, a sort of false hope trying to save himself from what he knew was true. Cas had left him. Because of course he had. Everyone left him eventually.

He curled his arms around the motel’s cheap, flat pillow and held it to himself, trying to use it to hold in everything that was threatening to burst forth from his straining emotional dam. How could he have been so reckless and stupid? He called Cas in to help with a case and now it was done. Of course Cas left after that. He probably imagined that unnamed look and the way the idiot’s eyes shone when he looked at him. Those smiles weren’t ones of real affection, just feigned until he appeased Dean enough to make sure he was safe so he could go do whatever he did when he flew off. Why had he thought being drunk was enough of an excuse to let his guard down like that? Cas probably didn’t even–

Dean frowned at the door when he heard the lock tumble. How dare Sam interrupt his emotional breakdown. Only when the door opened, it wasn’t Sam.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Castiel said simply, standing in the doorway holding coffee and a brown paper bag. Dean gawked at him as he kicked the door shut behind him and walked over to the bed, sitting on it. “I thought you’d like some breakfast. I was just going to get you coffee from the main lobby, but something smelled off about the pot. So I went to that diner you were talking about the other afternoon. I brought you some doughnuts as well.”

Dean just stared at him, the sudden filling of the hole in his chest leaving him winded. He watched Cas set the coffee and bag of doughnuts on the nightstand, the angel’s face becoming increasingly anxious the longer Dean sat there in stunned silence.

“If this isn’t what you wanted, I could jus-”

“Shut the fuck up and get back down here,” Dean chuckled, pulling Cas into a tight embrace and kissing him at long last.

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY CRAP I ACTUALLY PUBLISHED SOMETHING!!! This is the first thing I've put out in an embarrassingly long time. Hope you all enjoyed! [On tumblr](http://honeyedsam.tumblr.com/post/177744149154/watch-over).


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